


I Feel Everything

by carloabay



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Blood, Consent, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Not Canon Compliant, Revenge, Smut, because consent is healthy, canon is putty and i am its god, literally no plot, vaguely season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28405449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carloabay/pseuds/carloabay
Summary: Oksana smells like lavender. Sweet and innocent.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 8
Kudos: 64





	I Feel Everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maverick009](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverick009/gifts), [Lalaru](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Lalaru).



> Canon? Don't know her.
> 
> Fic request from Maverick009:  
>  _Some hurt/comfort, smut...the works really. Villanelle takes care of an injured eve and goes to get revenge...blah blah blah_
> 
> Thanks, and here you go!
> 
> (I name her as Oksana instead of Villanelle bc...I got too far in calling her Oksana and then it looked weird but I was too lazy to change)
> 
> Hope youse enjoy!

Eve takes three final steps, and collapses.

She could be practical about this. Two stab wounds, at least a pint and a half of blood gone, lying in a slick trail on the pavement behind her. 

Eve curls into a ball, gritting her teeth so hard they squeak. Her heart thunders in her chest, quick and anxious.

It's damn cold. Dim, too, a dim day, though that could just be the shock, making the clouds draw together like that.

Her hands are trembling, wet and slippery, and when she looks down, they're bright red.

"Jesus," she hisses, through her teeth, because her jaw seems to be glued closed. "Help." It comes out as a meaningless grunt. Eve takes a breath in through her nose, in stuttered gasps. The world turns slowly pale, every shadow thrown into sharp relief.

She lays her head down, uneven concrete kissing her forehead, she tells herself, _No time to die, Polastri._

Just a little rest, because _God_ her head is heavy and her eyes are tired-

∆

"There is this place called a hospital, you have them here in England?"

Eve cracks an eyelid open. 

She knows that voice. Heavy Russian sarcasm.

The room is dark and warm, the hum of a radiator next to her ear, her body stuffed into thin blankets.

There's an ache around her ribs, on the left side- 

"He was left-handed," she manages. Her voice is less speech than breath.

"I know."

Eve tries to lift her head, every muscle stretching painfully. She gets an inch off the pillow and slumps back down, screwing her eyes shut, her body screaming at her.

"I had to sedate you. You were delirious." Someone sighs, and bounds off a chair with a creak. "Muttering about different people- all dead people." Footsteps pause by Eve's side, and Oksana looms into her vision. There's blood on her shirt. Big, red stain. Eve stares up at her. "It wasn't fun to watch." Oksana makes an exaggerated sad face.

"You," Eve croaks. She's not scared. She's not.

"Me," Oksana agrees, wide-eyed, tilting her head. She turns away, and there's the sound of wood on wood, a drawer dragging open. Eve blinks four times. Her mouth tastes like salt and copper. "You're very lucky."

"How did you know where I was?" If she's smart, she can figure out her location. There's a set of curtains, navy blue and raggedy, on the wall above her head. Get Oksana out of the room, wrangle open the window and...jump? 

It's not a plan. It's wishful thinking.

"I followed you."

"From where?"

"From home."

"You were at my house?" Eve cries, and her throat aches in protest.

"Calm down," Oksana says, rolling her eyes. "I saved you from your own stupid self, didn't I?" Eve's face burns.

"I was distracted."

"You knew what you were doing. He was like, a foot taller than you, pick your battles, Eve." Oksana has this incredibly disdainful look on her face, playful. Friendly. Then she pulls a gun from somewhere below Eve's span of vision, and Eve jerks instinctively. Oksana laughs. "I'm not going to kill you."

"I was distracted," Eve insists, eyeing the gun warily.

"Sure," Oksana replies distantly, loading the gun.

He had known she was following him. That was why he stabbed her. Distraction is fatal. Distraction like worrying about serial killers and money and dead, bloodied people and Villanelle, Oksana, where she is, what she's doing, how she smiles-- all at once.

"Where are you going?" Eve asks, and there's something in her that's surprised; she's relaxed, calm. Like she's safe here.

She shouldn't be safe.

"To kill him," Oksana says, easily.

"What?" Panic mangles the word, clawing up her throat. "Why?"

"I hate him," Oksana says with a shrug, and all the smiles and exaggerated expressions are gone now. Her eyes are dark, pricks of brown ink in the dusk of the room.

"You don't know him!" Eve protests, struggling to prop herself up on one elbow. Oksana pauses, the gun stilling between her fingers.

She leans forward, down, until they're nose to nose. Eve does not back down.

Oksana smells like lavender. Sweet and innocent. Eve breathes her in, safely.

"Eve," Oksana says, and her voice is deep with warning. Eve swallows. Oksana sighs, hot breath ghosting over Eve's nose. "Eve. I know enough."

She leans back, walks backwards, away, and snatches her jacket off the chair. Oksana slips away behind the door, leaving Eve with a cursory glance, and then the door clicks behind her, locked.

Eve slumps into the pillow.

∆

She jerks awake, her heart stumbling, dry tongue and aching ribs. Phantom pains in her muscles.

The stabbing. Oksana and her gun and her lavender scent.

Eve pushes herself into a sitting position, jaw clenched against the pain in her side, to get a look at the room.

Small room, wooden beams, plank floors. Old and rickety, an attic, maybe. The radiator hums beside her.

There's a tall glass of water on the chest of drawers next to the bed, and Eve grabs it, sniffs it, before gulping it greedily down.

The door clicks, rattles, and swings open, and Oksana marches back in. She throws her jacket onto the chair. Eve sets down the glass.

There’s splatters of blood, not Eve’s this time, thrown across Oksana’s face, her collarbones, her stomach. The jacket slides limply over the seat of the chair, stained and ruined.

“I thought I’d come back and find you halfway out the window,” Oksana says, sounding amused. Eve stares back at her.

“I fell asleep,” she admits. Oksana looks down at her shirt and casually wipes a drop of blood away, leaving a thumbed smear. Eve thinks about how many bullet wounds it would have taken to spray that much blood. Oksana looks up again, just as Eve looks away. “I thought you were misunderstood,” she manages, after a second. Oksana hums, and settles herself on the chair, on top of her ruined jacket.

“Very,” she says, a glint in her eye.

“I’m serious,” Eve bites back, and the glint disappears. “I thought— they pulled you out of prison, didn’t they? And made you do things.” Every trace of playfulness has vanished now. Oksana leans back, rests her head against the wall. “You’ve been forced,” Eve whispers. Oksana regards her coldly, hands flat on her thighs.

"You're invested in me, are you?"

"You're invested in me," Eve replies, a challenge. Oksana lets slip a tiny smile. She rises from her chair, and stalks Eve down like a pale leopard.

"Yes," Oksana says, simply. She raises a knee, and dips it into the mattress, folds herself into a crouch on the bed. Eve slides over the rough mattress, towards the slope in the bed.

"I'm not scared of you," Eve says, and she's staring, wide-eyed, right into Oksana's honey gaze.

"Good," Oksana says, and she's earnest, somehow. "I'm not scared of you, either." Hunched over, she looks like a crone in a play. She smiles at Eve, and Eve blinks back.

Oksana leans forward, tilting her head back and forth, like she's trying to catch the light in Eve's eyes. Eve surges upwards, into a sitting position, and Oksana leans back, gaze broken.

"What are you going to do?" Eve asks.

"What are you going to do?" Oksana mimicks back, but it's a serious question. They each wait for the other to move, inches away. Light dances on the bed, seeping under the curtains, pale and watery. Oksana's eyes flicker.

Eve kisses her.

Oksana kisses back.

Good _God_.

She's soft and gentle, graceful where Eve jumped in clumsily, feet first. Oksana pushes forward, her hand sliding into Eve's waist, around to her spine, and her tongue slides across Eve's bottom lip, hot.

Eve squeaks involuntarily.

Oksana pulls back, and Eve is about to protest when she comes back in again, kisses her again, little ones, quick, stamping Oksana's lipstick onto Eve's mouth.

Eve's eyes fall closed, and she reaches up, to spread her palm across Oksana's face.

Oksana grips Eve's wrist, cold fingertips over her pulse, and then she pushes forwards again, laying her lips over the corner of Eve's mouth. Eve falls backwards, slowly, controlled by the strong hand splayed between her shoulder blades, and Oksana lays her gently back on the pillows.

It's all so slow. There's a heat curling in Eve's stomach, feeding greedily off the gentle kisses Oksana is pressing into her lips, her cheeks, her chin, and suddenly Eve _wants_.

Her hand slips from Oksana's face, fingers clawing at the neck of Oksana's shirt, and Eve _pulls_. Oksana jerks forward, bruising Eve's teeth against the inside of her lip, and Oksana makes a surprised sound, and then she grins.

"Okay," she says, muttering against Eve's mouth, sending a gentle hum through Eve's jaw. "I don't want to- hurt you, though."

"You're not gonna hurt me," Eve whispers hungrily, ignoring the ache in her side. Oksana raises a leg, shifts, and then her knees are either side of Eve's thighs and she's hovering over her.

Eve reaches with numbing fingers for the hem of Oksana's shirt, rucks it up, over her ribs, running her hands over Oksana's skin. Oksana takes a sharp breath and leans down, teeth closing over Eve's lip.

Eve yanks Oksana's shirt over her head, separating them for a second, and then Oksana tosses the shirt away and kisses her again, a sound close to a growl. Eve digs her fingernails into Oksana's spine, breathing heavily into Oksana's mouth, head spinning with delight and desire.

Oksana's elbows dig into the pillow beside Eve's ears, and there's a frown, a crease carved in between her eyebrows, and she kisses harder, hotter.

Eve turns her head, pressing kisses one by one up Oksana's jaw, all the way to her ear, sucking on her skin. Oksana shivers, and her fingers slide into Eve's hair, clawed against her scalp.

"You make me feel," Oksana pants into Eve's ear, " _everything_."

"You have no idea," Eve growls, heady, flattening her hands over Oksana's back. 

Oksana unthreads one hand from Eve's hair and strips the blankets back, thin layer by thin layer, and then her fingers are trembling over the button on Eve's trousers.

"Go on," Eve manages, and she tilts her head and bites down on Oksana's neck, high, beneath her ear.

Oksana flicks the button open and manages to wrangle the trousers one-handed over Eve's hips, shoving them down to her knees.

They're tangled together, heated, panting, the blankets a twisted mess drooping onto the floor, and Oksana's skin is blooming red beneath Eve's teeth. Eve flattens her tongue over the marks and Oksana groans, hand dropping to Eve's bare hip.

Her fingers drag downwards, hooking under Eve's pants, torturously slowly, and she pants furiously into Eve's hair. Eve kisses the skin beneath her jaw. Her pulse is thundering against Eve's tongue.

The pants shift and twist, and Oksana swears in French, what sounds like French, and it's _sexy_ as hell.

She flicks her wrist, a ripping sound, but Eve doesn't care enough to stop kissing Oksana's throat, and Oksana discards the ruined underwear somewhere over her shoulder.

She trails one hand down the inside of Eve's thigh, and Eve stops kissing, panting against Oksana's collarbone in anticipation.

When Oksana's fingers finally get there, Eve's hips arch off the bed and she gasps, one hand curling into the just of Oksana's shoulder blade.

"Oh, fuck," she whimpers.

"Yeah?" Oksana breathes, eyes wide and hopeful.

"Yes, _fuck_ ," Eve hisses, her voice tapering to a growl. Oksana starts a rhythm, and Eve's hips move with her, over and over and over and over until 

" _Oh_..."

she crashes into bliss, head thrown back, lip between her teeth, chanting, " _fuck, fuck, fuck_ ," until it's ebbing away and she collapses into the pillow.

Oksana bends over her, kissing down her neck, lips edging under Eve's shirt. Eve draws in air, gasping, mouth curling into a blissful smile.

She catches her breath, sliding her hands ober Oksana's sides, down her hips, and Eve slides down the bed, ever so slowly, her mouth dipping in between Oksana's breasts, over her tense stomach, swirling her tongue into Oksana's navel.

She slips Oksana's leggings over her hips and down to her knees.

∆

"What is this place?" Eve mumbles, into Oksana's bare shoulder. 

"It's a secret," Oksana replies, running her thumb back and forth over Eve's third rib. "I have lots of them. The owners all owe me their lives."

"Conventional means?" Eve asks, and then she shakes her head. "No, forget that. Ha."

"Actually," Oksana murmurs, eyes drifting over the features of Eve's face, her eyes, her nose, her cheek. "I saved this one from being run over by a bus."

"I don't believe you," Eve says, a smile growing despite herself. Oksana blinks at her, wide eyed, and then she grins back.

"Okay, fine. I blackmailed him. Are you happy?"

"Very," Eve says, and she presses a kiss to Oksana's collarbone.

**Author's Note:**

> ❤️
> 
> This made me braver to write more heated stuff, so...thank you? I guess? Lmao I was blushing all the way through writing this but I hope it was good! (I usually SEVERELY skimp on the smut heh) (I admit though, I had too much shame to write too much of it)


End file.
